


All I want (for Christmas)

by SolveigLyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Mistletoe, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because I said so, no like fr, sammy is an ass, the finale never happened, they're so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolveigLyn/pseuds/SolveigLyn
Summary: The mistletoe wasn’t Dean’s idea. It really wasn't. Well, kind of, but he wasn't the one to actually hang it up so it doesn't count.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 155





	All I want (for Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while I continue to deny the existence of the last two episodes of season 15. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you want to, you can come bully me into writing something else on twitter @clownna

The mistletoe wasn’t Dean’s idea. It really wasn't. Well, kind of, but he wasn't the one to actually hang it up so it doesn't count.

When November rolled around and Christmas paraphernalia started popping up in storefronts and TV ads, Jack asked Dean about when they usually decorate the bunker and if he preferred a live Christmas tree or an artificial one. He also got really upset upon learning that they did not, in fact, have any plans to celebrate. 

He then took it upon himself to change that and demanded a full-blown Christmas celebration, and it's not like Dean could ever say no to the kid, so Christmas it was.

It’s a cold evening, mid-December, and Dean’s sitting on the couch drinking beer and watching some stupid movie when Jack pops his head into the room and asks,

“Can we get mistletoe?” Dean chokes on his beer.

“Umm… Why? What for?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“The website says it's customary to hang a twig of mistletoe in a doorway in Christmastime. The custom supposedly comes from ancient Druids, did you know that? It was a warding against bad spirits and-” 

“Yeah, I didn't ask for a history lesson, thank you very much. Did the website also tell you what, um... what mistletoe symbolizes now?” Dean rolls his eyes. He loves the kid to death but he's just as clueless as Cas has been at the beginning.

Jack looks him in the eye and says, “Of course I know. You're supposed to kiss under it.”  
He then shrugs and promptly leaves.

Later that week Dean is drinking coffee in the kitchen one morning, Sam sitting at the table opposite him, researching something on his laptop. Dean takes a deep breath.

“So Jack wants us to get mistletoe.”

Sam looks up at him, an amused look in his eyes. “Okay? Do you want to get mistletoe?”

“Well, if it makes the kid happy? He's been through a lot lately, he earned it, I guess.”

“You guess?” Sam fights down a smirk.

“Yeah I do, what's so funny about that?”

In that moment Cas shuffles into the kitchen, yawning, hair sleep ruffled. He mutters a ‘hello’ and makes his way towards the coffee pot. Dean peels his eyes away from the back of Cas’ neck, his ears reddening. 

Sam isn’t hiding the smirk anymore. “Alright, I’ll swing by Home Depot on my way back from Eileen’s, and buy Jack some damn mistletoe, if you insist.”  
“I wasn’t-” Dean stutters, but Sam has already closed his laptop and is standing up, giving his brother a pointed look.

The mistletoe is hung up in the doorway from the war room to the library on December 16th. 

Jack looks at it proudly and goes to pour himself a cup of eggnog. The kid wasn’t joking about making it a full-blown Christmas celebration. The whole bunker smells like gingerbread and clover. There is a Christmas tree put up in the library, and garlands woven around the handrails of the stairs. Fairy lights are blinking at Dean from where he was made to put string them up on the railing. They look like they’re laughing at him, their constant on-and-off twinkle. Dean huffs and scolds. He’s taking them down as soon as Christmas is over. 

The mistletoe is mostly forgotten for the next week or so, not causing any problems, just hanging above the steps ominously. Dean still eyes it suspiciously from his chair from time to time, but it's mostly harmless.

Until it isn’t. 

Dean is seated at the table, his laptop open, a cup of coffee in his hand. He's researching a case in Glendive, Montana when he hears the door being open then shut, and steps echoing down the stairs. 

“I bought groceries,” Castiel states. Sam gets up to help him out with the bags (reusable, because “we have to cut out single-use plastic, Dean, it's bad for the environment”). 

Sam takes two bags out of the angel’s hand and goes to put them in the kitchen, but stops short in his step, and puts a hand on Castiel’s arm. 

“Hey, Cas,” he says, “look up”.

Dean peels his gaze from the laptop’s screen just in time to see Sam give him a pointed look over the angel’s shoulder and drag Cas close. He smiles and plants a kiss on the other man’s cheek. Cas lets out an honest-to-god giggle, and Dean feels his stomach turn, something ugly awakening in him. The coffee turns sour. He looks away. 

He spends the next two days hiding (not hiding, ok, just taking some time alone) in his room. He watches all of the Indiana Jones movies, then all of Star Wars (he enjoys episode VIII a lot, even though he would not admit it to anyone, ever). He drinks several 6-packs of beer, and he most definitely does not think about it. ‘It’ being a certain cute angel.

A knock on the door comes on the third day of his self-indulgence. He hits pause on Shrek 2.

“What do you want, Sammy?” he asks, annoyance audible in his voice.

“I just wanted to know for how long are you planning to keep avoiding Cas.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone” he grumbles. 

“Of course you're not” Sam huffs, “but would you perhaps consider joining us for dinner?”

“Maybe, now go away” Dean mumbles. He can almost hear Sam’s eye roll as his brother walks away from the door.

He leaves his room reluctantly half an hour later, lured out by the smell of something roasted. He steps into the kitchen. Jack and Cas are discussing something, Jack gesturing animatedly, Cas smiling softly at him. Sam is stirring some veggies in a pan but turns to the door when Dean enters.

“Look who decided to bless us with his presence!” he exclaims, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Sammy” Dean grumbles, looking away.

Cas turns away from Jack for a moment, sending Dean a warm smile. He feels his face heat up. Then he notices what Cas is wearing, and the warmth spreads to the rest of his body.  
The angel is sat at the table wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, Dean’s t-shirt. It’s one of his favorites, an old Led Zepp ‘77 tour memento, worn soft by years of washing. It's a little too big on the angel, hanging loosely from his shoulders. 

Dean slumps into his usual seat and watches the two get back to their discussion, but he's not listening, too preoccupied with the feeling blossoming in his chest. It's warm and familiar, oh so familiar, he’s felt it so many times before, too scared to act on it. But as he watches Cas interact with Jack, and shoot Dean shy smiles and glances every once in a while, he’s overcome with a feeling of resolution, and suddenly he isn’t so scared anymore. 

“Cas, come on buddy, hurry up or they’ll close the store before we get there!” Dean calls, stuffing his phone and wallet into his pockets. They promised to pick up the turkey but got distracted researching how to best roast it, and it’s gotten late. Jack would be pissed if they came back empty-handed.

Cas shuffles into the library, stopping by Dean’s side. He’s wearing a pair of blue jeans and Dean’s old green jacket, and goddammit, he looks amazing in it. Dean stares for a moment but forces himself to look away. 

“You ready?” he asks, and Cas nods.

They walk towards the front door together, but Cas stops, suddenly. Dean turns around and looks at him questioningly. 

“You ok, dude?”

Cas has his head tilted backward, looking at something above them.  
Dean stops breathing. 

Cas looks at him. He has this twinkle in his eyes, and Dean is breathless, he can’t think, can’t move.

That’s ok though because Cas moves for him, moves close, so very close, his breath ghosting over Dean’s skin, and he shudders. He looks into those blue eyes, bluer than the sky, and feels with every inch of his being, feels, every unspoken word and heavy look, and then he’s moving, bringing their lips together.

It’s sweet, soft, breathless. Barely a graze of skin, electricity sparking between them, like the first time Dean saw Cas. His eyelids flutter closed, and he deepens the kiss, trying to put everything he was never able to say in it. His head is spinning. 

When they break apart, Cas is smiling. 

“I think” he breaths, “I think we owe Jack a thank you.” The angel smiles wider, and all Dean can do is nod.

They don’t make it to the store on time, and they’re late for Christmas breakfast the next morning. For some reason, neither Jack nor Sam mind.


End file.
